


A Hole of His Own

by meh_guh



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, kinkmeme fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-03
Updated: 2013-02-03
Packaged: 2017-11-28 01:19:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/668626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meh_guh/pseuds/meh_guh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilbo's feeling a little lost and homesick in the vast and draughty halls of Erebor.</p>
<p>Bofur decides to do something about that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Hole of His Own

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a prompt here: hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/3393.html?thread=5428801#t5428801

Erebor truly was breathtaking, Bilbo thought as he pattered around the vast halls. Even filled with refuse and soot-stained, there was no denying the majesty of the place. And with Smaug lying dead at the bottom of the lake and the Goblin army shattered and driven back to their horrible caves, the mess that had been made was being swiftly dealt with. Every day saw another hall cleared, ready to be repaired and brought back to its former glory.

It was magnificent, but Bilbo couldn't help a pang of homesickness whenever he wandered through massive arched doorways to find another echoing space. Hobbits craved comfort, and it was becoming increasingly evident that dwarves did not.

He'd done the best he could with the chambers Thorin had assigned him; a lick of whitewash over the walls, he'd paid handfulls of his share of the treasure to an elf for a lovely rug, hung his blankets for makeshift curtins, but still the space was large and cold and alien.

There were armies of dwarves crowding though Erebor, singing and whistling as they ploughed through the halls. Armies of dwarves, and not another hobbit for Bilbo to confide his discomfort in.

'All right there, lad?'

Bilbo turned to smile at Bofur. 'I find myself a little homesick, Master Bofur. Perhaps it is time for me to return to the Shire.'

Bofur's smile dropped from his face like it had been wiped away. 'Surely you cannot be truly thinking of leaving us? Are you not feeling welcome here?'

Bofur sounded so distressed that Bilbo took a step closer and rested a hand on his shoulder. 'Nothing of the sort! But I find I miss my smial and its comfortable rooms.'

Letting his eyes unfocus, Bilbo sighed. In all liklihood, the Sackville-Bagginses had moved into Bag End months ago. Even if he managed to make it back home, there probably wasn't anywhere waiting for him. Certainly there was no _one_ waiting.

Bilbo started when Bofur's hand curled over his, pinning it to Bofur's shoulder, fingers curling around Bilbo's comfortingly.

'Aye, Erebor is not much like you little home,' Bofur dimpled at him. 'But I think I may have an idea to make you more comfortable here.'

Bilbo tilted his head, but before he could form a query, Bofur grinned again and marched off towards the craftsmen's hall.

****

Bilbo was lingering over his breakfast a few days later when there came a knock at the door. He pulled it open to see Bofur's wide grin and something large wrapped in a patchwork quilt.

'Master Bofur,' Bilbo blinked, and belatedly stepped aside. 'Good morning.'

Bofur stepped inside, dragging his parcel into the middle of Bilbo's drawing room. 'I seem to recall you having a mighty fine desk back in your hole.'

Well, yes. Bilbo's desk had been his father's father's; carved from a fallen oak almost two hundred years ago as a handfasting present from one of the innumerable Brandybucks. Bilbo felt a pang when he thought about Sackville-Bagginses rootling through his papers, throwing out his precious maps, even _writing directly on the desk when the blotter was right there_. He shuddered.

Bilbo realised Bofur had been staring at him questioningly for a moment, and flushed. 'Why, yes I did.'

Bofur's smile widened and he whipped the quilt off his parcel. 'It's not the same, but I thought it might go some way to easing your homesickness.'

Bilbo gaped. There, in the middle of his dwarvish room was a beautifully-carved, hobbit-sized desk. The wood fairly glowed with polish, and the interwoven pattern of leaves and animals running down the legs and along the far edge of the desktop looked half alive. He stepped closer, one hand coming up to stroke an owl peering around some ivy.

'It's _beautiful_ ,' Bilbo breathed, turning to grin at Bofur. 'My word, _you_ made this? For _me_?'

'Bifur helped with the carvings,' Bofur stepped a little closer and ran a finger along what looked like a grinning warg. 'And I had some help from the lads in the craft hall to make the desk, but yes. I made it for you.'

Bofur was very close, Bilbo noticed. Very close indeed. Bilbo's heart skipped a beat when Bofur's hand came up to sweep a lock of Bilbo's now quite shamefully wild hair behind his ear.

'Bofur...' he breathed, head tilting into the caress.

'Will you stay?' Bofur breathed, fingers carding through Bilbo's hair now. 'I don't know that I could face life here if you left.'

Bilbo's hands seemed to take on a life of their own, reaching up to cup the back of Bofur's head to draw him down into a kiss Bilbo didn't remember deciding to start.

Bofur's moustaches were velvety soft, and Bilbo groaned as Bofur's finger trailed along the curve of his ear.

'I take it you're staying?' Bofur pulled back just far enough to look into Bilbo's eyes. 'Or if you'll have me, I'll go to the Shire with you.'

'There's nothing there I want half so much as I want you here with me,' Bilbo pressed another kiss to Bofur's lips, then pursed his lips. 'Well, except maybe a barrel of Old Toby.'

Bofur laughed delightedly. 'I'll see what I can do about that. After all, I've another six days of betrothal present to find for you.'

Bilbo felt his eyebrows rise. 'Well, in that case, Master Bofur, I think I can provide you with a list.'

He drew Bofur towards his bed and felt at home for the first time since thirteen dwarves and a wizard had interrupted his supper all those months ago. Home was, Bilbo reasoned, where you made it. And he couldn't think of a better place to make one that right here.

Especially if Bofur could be persuaded to find a plot of land for Bilbo to start a garden.


End file.
